


You’ll do just fine, kid.

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Dyslexia, Eventual Smut, Frerard, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My First Smut, PTSD, Separation Anxiety, joetrick - Freeform, past ryden
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: Patrick has ADHD. Joe has separation anxiety. Gerard has dyslexia. Mikey has speech impediments. Pete has bipolar disorder. Frank has leg failure. Gabe has depression. Ray has no money.Together, they have one hell of a friend group.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Gabe Saporta/Mikey Way/Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Joe Trohman, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Comments: 21
Kudos: 28





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> It gets better as it goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was edited from its original version. You are experiencing a higher quality of fic than the people who've been here since March 19th. I intend on editing the other chapters soon, so let me know if there's anything I need to fix. I know that the tenses seem to flow in and out in the first few chapters, but that's the main issue I've been fixing.

As I walk down the streets, I kick the same rock over and over again. There's not much I can do since my whole fucking world exploded three days ago. I got a call from the police saying my parents had died in a car crash when they attempted to pick me up from school on the last day. I told them I was going to walk home. I _told_ them. It's not their fault, though. It's no one's fault. It doesn't matter anyway because these things happen and I can't change them. Thinking about my parents makes my vision thick with tears. My dad's smile, my mom's gentle voice. I miss it all already.

I sniffle and lower the brim of my hat to cover my eyes more. I can’t cry in public; that’d make me weak. And I’m not weak. I’m just a little softer than all the other boys, and I actually have the ability to show emotion. I don’t like fighting or getting in fights, and I don’t smoke. I’m also not rich. Well... I really can’t be rich anymore, for obvious reasons.

Tears are starting to fall down my face, and I panic. People are starting to notice me. They probably think I lost my job or my girlfriend or something. Both are impossible, actually. First of all, I’m way too awkward to talk to other people, so I can’t possibly get a job. Second of all, I don’t want a girlfriend. I'm gay. It's always been something I'm open about since God wouldn't have made boys that way if people were meant to be straight. It doesn't matter much because I’ve never kissed anyone anyway. Brendon has, though. He’s had a boyfriend and a girlfriend in his life. There was Sarah, who was really strong and confident. She and Bren still get along really well. 

And then there was Ryan. He was the exact opposite of Sarah, but Brendon still fell head over heels for him. Timid, emotional, silent... you wouldn’t expect him to be the one to break anyone’s heart. But Brendon had a heart made of glass, I guess, and Ryan accidentally knocked it off the top shelf. They don’t talk anymore. In fact, I haven't talked to Brendon in a while, either. I heard somewhere that he went down the wrong path. 

As I'm crying, walking, and thinking at the same time, some guy put his hand on my shoulder from behind. I turn around. “What’s your problem?” I sob. 

The guy looks hurt as he retracts his hand. His whiskey-colored eyes are soft as he talks to me. “Kiddo, I don’t have a problem. I was just hoping I could fix yours.” 

I wanna shout at him about how my problem can’t be “fixed” with anything, but that’d be rude, considering how he doesn’t know what I’m going through. “I’m good, thanks,” I mumble. 

He sighs and grabs my hand. “You’re not headed anywhere, right?”

I stop in my tracks. “No, I’m not,” I say. I’m skeptical of this man. What does he want from me? He looks around twenty, and it's frowned upon for adults to touch children in this place. He doesn't look like a pedophile, though. He just looks stressed. 

Suddenly, he yanks my hand and starts running in the opposite direction. “Good!” he shouts over his shoulder at me, “We were looking for another!” 

_We_? _Another_? What the heck is this guy talking about? If I was talking to him about my intentions, at least I would include some context! I allow him to lead me wherever he wants to, which is a junkyard, apparently. 

There are six other boys sitting on piles of rusted metal and on top of old cars. They all stop talking and stare at me. One of them, a kid with fire red hair, a black tank top, and tight black jeans, speaks first. “Who’s the new guy, Petey? You find another kid to molest?” The other boys laugh at it. I blush and hide my eyes. 

The guy who brought me, “Petey” or something, shakes his head. “I don't molest children," he whispers to me before facing the others again. "He’s crying, Gerard. If he was sad about anything other than parental issues, he’d be talking to his mom right now. And, y’know, we all have our fair share of daddy issues. He needs someone to talk to.” 

Everyone awkwardly murmurs in response. I look up to see one of them had jumped down and has walked over to me. He has olive eyes and pale skin. Lanky, curly, and relaxed, is how I’d describe him right off the bat. “I’m Joe,” he says, “I’m not that exciting, but I’m still here if ya wanna talk.” He sticks out his hand. I shake it, already beginning to feel accepted. 

“M’name is Patrick,” I mumble, “I’m kinda anxious and crap.” 

Joe turns around to face the others. “HIS NAME IS PATRICK!!” he shouts, “HE SAYS HE’S KINDA ANXIOUS!!!” 

The others lazily wave at me with broken responses of, “Hi, Patrick.” 

Joe points to each boy as he says their names. “That’s Gabe, that’s Ray, that’s Mikey, that’s Gerard, and that’s Frank. Frank and Gerard are gay, as well as Gabe and Pete. Or maybe it’s Mikey and Pete. Sometimes it looks like Mikey and Gabe, though. They kinda all date each other, but they don’t talk about it anyway. No one does.” 

I chuckle, “Okay... you gay with anyone? Straight, maybe?” 

“Nah, I’m too spastic. There’s a guy at my school, Andy Hurley? Yeah... I’m thinking of asking him out sometime soon. He’s not like me, but he’s not rich either. What about you?” 

I blush. “Boys think I’m fat and I don’t like girls.” 

Joe frowns, shaking my shoulder gently. “I’m a boy, Patrick, and I think you’re just fine. Doesn’t your mom tell you you’re handsome?” 

I bite my lip. Here comes the depressing moment. “My mom and dad died three days ago,” I confessed, “And my mom promised she’d never lie to me, so she never called me handsome. But... she never said I was bad-looking, either. I guess I got that going for me.” 

Joe shuts his mouth. He's clearly stunned by my oh-so-depressing backstory, but I can’t blame him. If I came across a kid whose parents had died three days ago, I wouldn’t know what to say or how to talk to him calmly. I pray to God he doesn’t treat me like a wounded creature. I’ve been doing just fine. 

Pete sees how well Joe and I are communicating and raises his eyebrows. “I think me and Mikey have some competition, here,” he says, “Not even five minutes and you guys are all over each other.” 

Joe snaps at him, “Didn’t you just hear him? He’s going through something, for crying out loud.” 

Pete stands still. I look up at Joe (he’s like, four inches taller than me) and admire his courage to talk to someone like that. Especially since Pete’s clearly the head man, and there’s some form of an age difference between them. Pete keeps his jaw firm, but his eyes maintain the same soft gaze. “What’s he going through?” He backhands my arm gently to get my attention. “Whatcha going through, kid?” 

I hide my eyes as I mumble, “M’parents died.” 

Pete shuts his mouth, the same way Joe did. Something tells me I should get used to that— people shutting their mouths when I tell them I’m technically an orphan now. But something about the word “orphan” doesn’t seem to fit me right now. I prefer the term _alone_ or _solo_ since those make me sound like I got this under control. 

Spoiler alert, but only if you can keep a secret: I don’t “got this under control.” If anything, I got this “out of control.” Completely out of my control, and I hate it. 

I straighten my back and try my best to bury my sadness for the time being. “So... what do you guys do? Every group of friends I’ve seen has their own thing. Like poker, flirting, music, etc. What’s with you guys?” 

One kid, who I think was Frank, shouts, “WE HANG OUT IN JUNK YARDS!!” 

I look at Joe, raising my eyebrow quizzically. “Is this true?” I ask. 

He shrugs, stammering. He clearly doesn’t want me to leave. “We also, uh... we try to make peace with the people who attack us, which often leads to some close interaction.” 

Pete punches him in the arm. “Close interaction means that we fight them and never ask them what their problem is with us.” 

Ray(?) speaks up from the top of an old Chevy. “Or what _our_ problem is with _them_?” 

“Shut up, Ray!” Frank shouts. _What the heck_ , I think, _he’s sitting right next to Ray and he still shouts._

“I’m just saying, we’re not completely innocent here. We fight them, too.” 

“I’m just saying, shut up,” Frank uses the same tone as Ray, sarcastic without a doubt. Gabe (holy hell, he’s tall) steps in immediately to break up the potential fight. 

I watch it from the side. These folks really get along together like the Lost Boys, I notice. I haven’t known them for long, and I know it’ll take time to fully get to know these dudes, but I’ll do whatever it takes. I just wanna fit in, whatever that means around here. I don’t know how to fit in with a group of strays like this, but I’m certain there’s a way. Maybe I’m gonna start by getting to know each individual man on the crew. I’ve already met Joe, and he’s pretty cool. 

Maybe I’ll talk to Ray next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to be that idiot, but kudos and comments are always welcome.


	2. Ray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick talks to Ray for the first time, and he learns more than he bargained for about the others, but not in a bad way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to take a week to write, but I guess this quarantine thing has its perks. 1559 (or so) words in a day. I feel really good about myself, and this is the highest I’ve ever emotionally felt besides during a manic episode. 
> 
> Note! Some of the information in here isn’t accurate, and this is purely a work of fiction. I have moderate-level knowledge of everything I mention, so none of it is intended to mock or make fun of the disorders. I have most of the ones mentioned, so I know what I’m talking about (I have ADD, PTSD, Separation anxiety, Depression, speech impediments, Social anxiety, general anxiety, and there are traces of bipolar disorder)

When the sun began to set that night, the other boys were playing ultimate frisbee with a rusted hubcap that Gerard found on the ground. Ray was standing at the side, making sure no one got hurt. I stood next to him, since I didn’t want to get hurt either. 

Ray was tall with poofy caramel hair, and he wore a blue denim jacket with jeans. He looks the most approachable out of everyone, especially considering the things he said earlier. He is clearly the mother hen of the group. I considered the pros and cons of talking right now, and the pros outweighed the cons. 

“So, uh, you in school?” I ask. 

Ray shakes his head. “I’m too poor. That’s why I hang with these folks, actually. We all have something that sets us apart. I happen to be the poor one. Mikey has speech problems, Gerard’s dyslexic, Pete’s bipolar, Frank has PTSD towards fireworks, Joe has separation anxiety, and Gabe has depression. I probably have the best condition.” 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Knowing that I’m not the only screwed up one here made all this easier to say. “I’m an orphan, and I have that thing where I can’t focus. I read about it, and it’s called ADD. But for some reason, my teachers just think I’m not trying.” 

Ray turns his head to look at me. I make eye contact with him, and immediately I'm embarrassed. I don’t know why. I just hate eye contact. Quick, I look away. “S-Sorry.” 

“You didn’t do anything, Patrick. I’m just surprised that Pete could see that from one look at you. Did you talk to him first, or why did he wanna bring you here?” 

I look over at Pete, who had Mikey pinned down underneath him as they engaged in a really suggestive wrestling match. Goodbye, childhood. “I dunno... maybe it was the fact that I was crying by myself in the middle of the sidewalk, or that I asked him what his problem was when he touched me.” I laugh dryly. Ray nervously looks me over before he laughs along.

When I’m sure it’s okay to bring up a new topic, I say, “So, uh, you dating anyone? Everyone here seems to be... _intimately connected_.” I cough into my arm and hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. 

He shrugs, “I’m not, and I like it that way. No one on earth really peaks my interest. That is, if I _had_ an interest.” 

I cock my head to the side. “What do you mean?” I ask, immediately regretting it. Why should I ask such a personal question on the first day? I’ve only known him for five hours, talked to him for five minutes, and known this for thirty seconds! God, I’m an idiot. 

Apparently Ray doesn’t think I’m an idiot, and is willingly going to tell me. “It’s like, um, so... you only like girls, right?” 

_Why does everyone assume that_? “Boys,” I correct him. 

Ray’s face flushes. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t’ve guessed.” 

“It’s fine. Anyway, you were saying something?” 

“Oh, yeah. Um... so, think of someone you don’t want to go on a date with, or fall in love with, or kiss. Got that? Okay. Now, imagine you feel that way about everybody. I still love platonic cuddling and platonic hand-holding, but I don’t wanna ever have a girlfriend or boyfriend or a non-binary lover. I guess I have a platonic relationship with Gerard. Frank isn’t mad about it, though. He knows that it’s all friendly and that I’m just a sad little touch-starved boy.” 

I relax my shoulders. “That’s cool,” I reply, since I really don’t know what else to say. 

A comfortable silence passes between us. 

The evening sunset blinds me as it sinks under the brim of my hat and into my view. It’s mesmerizing. I look over at Joe, who’s holding the hubcap way in the air. Frank’s aggressively fighting for it, jumping up and down. Can’t blame him; I’m short, too.

Joe’s skin looks golden where the light hits it, but the shadows on his body make me speechless. There’s such contrast on him right now. Light and dark, good and evil. Even the dark side of him looks good. “I want to kiss him,” I whisper. 

**Apparently I forgot that Ray was standing right next to me**. “Who’s him?” he asks. 

My face flushes, and I become a stammering mess. “N-No one. No one at all. D-Did I say that out loud? That had to... had to have been someone else. I’m not... I don’t like... well, I am, but not...” I shrink into myself. My hands are sweating and my whole brain’s on fire. 

Ray raises his eyebrow at me and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me; you could’ve just said so. I’d find out sooner or later. Joe or Frank?” 

I look up at him, confused. “Why just those two?” 

“You we’re staring in their direction, Patrick. I may be a dropout, but I’m not stupid.” 

Knowing that this might be putting my potential friendships on the line, I clear my throat and say, “It’s Joe. Ever since he started talking to me, I’ve been attracted to him. His eyes, his skin, even his hair. The way he talks... God, I’m a mess,” I chuckle softly as I continue to watch him and Frank fight over the metal. 

In one instant, Joe looks over and catches me looking. He stops in his place and we lock eyes. His viridescent pupils dig into my gold/blue/green eyes, making me feel like I’m about to either faint or vomit. I don’t do either, and instead just smile and wave. He blushes and does the same, dropping the hubcap into Frank’s expecting arms. The weight makes Frank tip onto his back, which makes Gerard rush over to check on him. Joe wanders over to me. Ray pats me on the back before walking off and joining Gerard in talking to Frank. 

“Hi...” Joe begins. He stays five feet away from me, which I find awkward. I step closer. He steps back. I step back. He steps forward. It felt like I was doing a weird dance with a mirror. 

I smile at my shoes. “You’re kinda cute, you know.” 

He laughs, “Thanks. You’re pretty cute, too,” he shuffles his feet in the dirt, “I was wondering if you wanted to sleep with me tonight. My mom wouldn’t mind. If she does, I’ll just let her know you don’t have anywhere to stay.” 

“Sleep with you? I’m fifteen!” I joke. My humor is extremely dry and no one ever understands my jokes, but Joe seems to like this one. 

“I’m also fifteen. Small world, am I right? But, uh, seriously... I don’t want you wandering the streets tonight. You could get jumped, or worse. Socs wander at night, if you know what I mean. Brendon, Billie Joe, Dallon... they’re pretty hard. I also really don’t want you to leave me. You’re such a good person, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His statements are redundant, but I can really feel the worry in his voice. He genuinely believes I’m gonna get hurt if I leave. 

_Separation anxiety_. 

I step forward (he doesn’t move back) and wrap him in my arms. I murmur into his ear, “I’m going to be okay if I leave. Savvy?” 

“N-No. You really don’t understand how bad the Socs can get. Where have you been staying?” He pulls back from the hug, but still holds onto my wrists protectively. “Patrick, where have you been sleeping?”

I shake my head, “Haven’t slept in days, Joe. I just wander around and if I find hobos congregated around a fire, I’d be insane not to join them. I’ve eaten little, but I’m alive, aren’t I? And that’s... that’s what matters.” 

Joe looked as if he was about to drop dead. “Honey, you can’t live with that mindset! You need a home, period. I’m taking you home, whether you like it or not!” 

I smile and nuzzle his neck gently. “Maybe I’ll develop Stockholm syndrome while you’re holding me captive.” 

He chuckles and squeezes me to his chest once before holding us at a distance again. “I’m gonna take you home, get you some food (your skin is pale as ivory, sweetheart. It breaks my heart ), and then you’re gonna sleep. Savvy?” 

I blush. Why does he keep calling me pet names? Does he like me? “O-Okay. Only if your mom’s alright with it.” 

“She is! She is. Just, uh, come with me. Please.” He grabs my hand and drags us over to the others. “Patrick’s gonna be living and sleeping with me for a while. Frank, for the love of God, get your mind outta the gutter.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Drop the sarcasm, dear. Thank you. Anyway, Patrick and I best be on our way. If you need anything... too bad. Let’s meet here again, tomorrow. This was a nice junk yard. Noon? Does noon sound good? I don’t care if it doesn’t. Everyone meets here at noon tomorrow. If you can’t come, tell someone or we’ll assume you’re dead. Bye, guys!” 

He runs off with me falling behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clean comments please!


	3. Gerard (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick discovers his self esteem issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn’t be writing this much in one sitting. 
> 
> Hope you like it! This was a fun chapter to write, but aren’t they all?

Joe’s mom ended up loving me even before she heard my sob story. She wanted to know how I found Joe, why he’s holding my hand, and how long he’s known me. 

“Pete introduced us; he’s protective of me; we just met today, ma’am.” I answered each question carefully, being as polite as possible. I was asked a whole ton of questions that night after Joe went to bed, but they weren’t mean questions. Just things about my past and why I didn’t seek shelter at first. Later, she told me about Joe’s separation anxiety and how he’s getting help for it. 

“He really hasn’t been able to let go ever since his father walked out on us. He has this... this mindset that everyone who leaves him won’t ever come back. It’s really terrifying, sometimes. And now that I see the way he looks at you, it’s gonna be rough.” Mrs. Trohman was almost in tears. I stared down at the table, nodding occasionally. 

“I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when he falls in love,” I mumble, “He’s gonna get hurt, especially if it’s unrequited.” 

His mom took a deep breath. She put her hand on my wrist and said, “He’s falling in love _now_ , for the first time, and I’m so scared. But... we’ll just have to wait and see if it’s unrequited or not.” 

And with that, she left the room. I thought silently for a few minutes before laying down next to Joe in his bed and falling asleep. 

*********************************

**Three days later**

Joe shakes me awake the next morning and nudges me with his nose. “Wake up, Patrick. C’mon, man. Please wake up. Are you... are you dead?” His voice was shaking when he said the last thing. I open my eyes and sit up. Joe’s sitting next to me, wide awake.

“I’m not dead,” I mumble tiredly, “Why’d you think I was...?” 

He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the forehead. “You never know,” he replies, “People on earth leave quicker than they come. Birth takes nine months; death takes a second.” 

I sigh and put my hand on his cheek. “Don’t say that, Joe. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna die when I’m old,” 

“But when will you leave?”

”When the time comes.” 

No one talks after that. Joe hands me a sweater and some jeans, telling me I can keep them. “My no-good dad thought I’d want to wear his old clothes to remember him. I don’t wanna remember him at all.” He scowls at the box of clothes labeled **Richard**. 

I put the clothes on in the bathroom, making a note to go back to my parents’ house and get my necessities. Joe’s family is so nice to me, and I keep getting the feeling that I’m just making life harder for them. I should pay Mrs. Trohman for boarding, or at least work for my stay. If there was anything I didn’t want to be, it was a burden. Well, somewhere between a girl and a burden. 

Joe had made toast for me, which I ate on the way to the junkyard. Gerard and Mikey were there already. Mikey was sitting on top of a rusted Impala, covering one of his eyes with his hand. Tears were sliding down his face, and Gerard was comforting him by holding ice to his brother’s face. “It’s okay... it’s okay. Calm down, Mikey. It’s just a black eye. No one ever died of a black eye.” 

Joe taps Gerard on the shoulder and asks what’s going on. I stroke Mikey’s dusty blonde hair and whisper comforting words in his ear. 

Gerard clears his throat and grimaces. “Dirty Socs got him on the way here. Dallon Weekes was waiting on the corner of Q and fifth. Soon as he sees me and Mike, he throws a punch. Hits my brother right in the eye. I fight back when I shoulda been helping Mikey, and my arm’s a little sore now. Serves me right, though; I can’t get my priorities in check.” He shakes his head. 

Mikey sniffles, “D-D-Don’t downplay it, Gee. You s-saved m-m-me, and that’s a f-fact.” His lisp collided with his stutter, and it clearly frustrated him. 

Joe growls frustratingly and cusses, “Why’s everyone gotta be so d**n harsh? I can’t go one f***ing day without hearing about another accident!” He goes on to cuss out everything in existence, including things that don’t even matter. It takes about five minutes to get it outta his system. In that time, the others arrived. 

Pete and Gabe came in holding hands. Their hair was messy and Gabe was wearing one of Pete’s shirts, so we all knew what had happened beforehand. Young adults, am I right? Gerard told everyone who asked what happened, and it seemed to get a bit more self-deprecating each time. He started using words like “thoughtless jerk” and “idiotic” to describe himself, and I had to step in the moment he said “worthless.” 

“Gerard, you’re not worthless!” I shout, “You protected your brother without thinking about what to do. It was a high stress situation, and you have a fighting instinct. Fight or flight, and you fight! That’s awesome, and it makes the Socs more afraid of us.” 

Everyone goes silent. My face is turning a light crimson from the embarrassment. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shoulda shut my trap and moved on with it. Now these guys don’t want me anymore, most likely. Even Frank’s speechless, and he talks more than he can compensate for with air in his lungs. I stammer, “I-I’m sorry,” and turn around. I begin walking away with tears in my eyes. I entered the gang crying, and it’s only fitting that I’m crying when I’m leaving. 

I walk outta the junkyard and don’t even bother to look back. I blew it. And now there’s only one place to go: my parents’ house. I turn the corner of Q and fifth, immediately receiving a kick to the gut. I fall back onto the concrete, my vision blurring. I gasp for air, since the wind was knocked outta me. I hear a voice saying, “Orphan trash,” before another kick lands on my side. I flinch and groan with pain. 

I get at least five more kicks to the pancreas before I look up and see who it is. It was a brunette boy with a leather jacket, pale skin, and dark sunglasses. He had tight black pants and a cigarette between his lips. “Brendon,” I wheeze, “What happened to you?” 

He crosses his arms. “Nothing. What happened to you?” 

I scramble to my feet, wiping the blood from my nose with my sleeve. “I stayed in school and met the greatest bunch of guys in the world. They’re the greasers from the junkyard.”

Brendon laughs, but it’s more of a bark. “You hang with the junkernauts? I mean, I always knew you were a loser, but the _junkernauts_? That’s on a whole new level!” He turns around and looks at a shy, timid boy standing behind him. It was Ryan. “Ryan, look, this kid–“ 

“Hangs out with Pete, I heard him.” Ryan holds onto his arm and stares at his shoes. 

Brendon stamps his foot. “Drop the tone, Ross!” 

I see that Brendon’s distracted. _This is my only chance_ , I think. Then, I draw my arm back and throw a rough punch to his jaw. The impact makes a distinct sound, making me sick. I turn on my heel and run away. In the distance, I hear Brendon shout, “Why are you just standing there?! Get him!” 

_Crap_. I pick up the pace, my feet hitting concrete in a tempo faster than anything I can put on a guitar. I pass the junkyard and lock eyes with Joe. He looks betrayed, but that all changes the second he sees who’s chasing me. I nod, and he shouts for everyone to catch the Socs. All of this happens in a flash, but it’s the longest flash of my life. 

“Go! Go! Go!” Someone yells, but I’m not sure if it’s Brendon or Pete. I stop in my tracks when I feel a hand gripping my shoulder. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave,” the person’s voice was soft and scared, “You said you’d go when the time came, and you just got here.” 

It was Joe. I turned around and met his gaze. “I think my time is well over. I lashed out at Gerard when I shoulda shut up. I thought you guys hated me for that, so I ran off. And apparently that was the wrong thing to do, so now you guys want me even less.” 

Joe shook his head. “Patrick, you’ve got it all wrong. You just shouted the sense into Gerard. None of us knew what to say, so we said nothing at all. It was all in your head, man. I could never hate you. Just... I didn’t know if you were coming back. You didn’t say anything! It got hard to breathe without you, and I almost passed out. Please please please... don’t leave again.” 

Oh my god. Oh my god. I caused Joe’s panic attack. I’m such a bad person in order to do that. I wrap him in a tight embrace, tears leaking from my eyes. “Joe, I’m so sorry. I’m such a bad person to walk out on you when you— what was I thinking?” 

Joe tips forward and brushes our lips against each other. It’s clearly intended to be a kiss, but it really isn’t. It’s awkward and quick, but it’s still a first kiss, I guess. He blushes and so do I. “W-Well, then,” he mumbles. I chuckle softly and nod my head. 

“We... we should continue that later. How-However, the rest of our _clan_ is in a battle with the enemy, and we should cast some wizard spells before it’s too late.”

Joe whacks my arm lightly. “Nerd,” 

“Baby,” 

“I’m _your_ baby... daddy.” 

“Ow, that’s dirty. C’mon, though.” I grab his hand and drag him into battle, only to find we had already won. Pete had a bloody nose, but he’s proud as a lion. He holds the dumbest smile on his face, arms crossed over his chest. “Hey, what happened here?” I ask. 

Frank, sitting atop Gabe’s shoulders, throws his hands in the air. “We outnumbered them for the first time! We got some tall people, too, so that helped. We’re all used to being SHORT. But now we have _Gabe_ , and he’s a freaking _skyscraper_. Where were you guys?” 

“Solving and talking out the problem from earlier. You know, the one that got us into this mess?” I step forward and stare at the ground. “I’m so sorry, by the way. I didn’t mean to yell and that harsh tone came out of nowhere. If you don’t like me... I understand. I don’t like myself either.” 

Gerard pushes through the crowd and hugs me. I stand still for a second, unsure of what’s going on. “You’re supposed to hate me,” I whisper, “I caused all of this chaos.” 

Gerard shakes his head. “But the trouble’s over, isn’t it? The only place where it’s still happening is up there,” he pokes my forehead. “Your self esteem’s lower than the chance of rain in Arizona, kid! Who ever told you that you weren’t good enough?” 

“Me. I tell myself that all the time. And I know myself more than anyone, I’m sure. If I’m hard on myself, I’m never gonna stop trying.” I hold my chin high and set my jaw, the way I’ve seen Pete do it. Gerard shakes his head. 

“You talked some sense into me, so now I return the favor. You have serious self-esteem issues, and it’s only gonna stop when you wake up and realize that nobody is perfect, no matter how _together_ his life is. The best you can do is try, and at least begin to think of yourself as a human being. There is _nothing_ that you can say to us that’ll make us hate you, especially if it’s something that we need to hear. Like, I was being a complete moron back there. I needed someone to tell me I was being an absolute idiot to myself, and I’m so glad you stepped up to the plate.” Gerard tucked his crimson hair behind his ear and smiled. He has a pretty smile. I see why Frank loves him so much, but I’m still elated from Joe’s half-kiss. 

I take the next step and say, “Guess what, Gerard?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let’s talk soon. I feel like there’s some stuff we should bring up together.” I wink, offering my hand. 

Gerard shakes my extended hand. “Sounds like a frickin good idea, Patrick!” He laughs, “finally, a half-decent motherf—— to talk to around here!” He looks around, pleased when everyone laughed at his joke. I let go of his hand when I feel Joe hug me and kiss my neck from behind. 

“Baby, I found a piece of paper on the ground,” he says. 

I look over my shoulder at him. “Good job? What’s it say?” 

Joe shoves the paper into my hand. “It’s for you, I think, from Brendon. He signed it and everything. I... I didn’t read it.” 

I open up the folded paper, grimacing at what it said in Brendon’s messy cursive. 

_Dear Patrick, this isn’t over. You may have bested me and my friends this time, but that was just a warmup. As long as you guys keep up with your mental disorders, we’ll be better every time. After all,_ we _don’t need to be fixed. See ya! -Brendon._

_PS: say hi to your mom for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a Spotify playlist for this fic.  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2mSXMm8saRaqVy7gG3lLKk?si=MsPYuJURT7i5MZkclIsEgg


	4. Gerard (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Gerard have that chat they talked about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m starting to build more of an animal essence around each character, I hope. Joe’s like a wounded puppy (who’s definitely gonna get some character development), Ray’s like the wise owl or something, Pete’s a wolf (or at least a lion cub), Gerard’s some kind of loyal dog, and Patrick is a little fawn. I hope you can see those similarities. If you can’t, please tell me what I can do better and I will fix it. I just don’t want to bore you guys to death, which I’m afraid is exactly what I’m doing.

Brendon has absolutely no right to give me such a thoughtless note. _Say hi to your mom for me_. What the heck? He and I used to be best friends! What happened there? I was glad to see that Ryan hadn’t changed, though. If only he would grow a spine. 

**********

”So, um, what’s with the note? It seemed to upset you the other day,” Gerard squints at me in the sunlight as he picks at his shoes. He and I are sitting in the dugout of an old sandlot, which was a change from the regular junkyard. I wanted to talk to Gerard alone, so I had Joe go and hang out with Pete, Mikey, and Gabe for a while. Despite those boys’ uncensored tendencies, I trusted them to dial it down around a kid five years younger. 

I pull the paper out of my jeans pocket and hand it to him. He shakes his head and hands it back to me. “Can’t read, Patrick. I’m just stupid or something.” 

I immediately start shaking. Ray told me the other day that Gerard was dyslexic. I shoulda remembered or at least written it down. “Sorry. I’m so sorry, Gerard, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I shoulda known. I’m such an idiot. You’re... you’re not stupid. You’re not stupid, Gerard...” I go on to mumble apologies mixed with self-insults while Gerard just watches from the side. 

After a while, he can’t take it anymore. “Patrick, calm down! It’s not a big deal! Just don’t make fun of me for it, that’s all. I’m not extremely insecure about it. I’m only a little insecure. Just tell me what the paper said.” He grabs my shoulders and looks right in my eyes. “Pull yourself together, man,” he whispers. 

I nod, breathing slowly. I just had a small panic attack, I think. “Th-The paper was from Brendon, and it was basically saying that he’s gonna be back to fight us again. He also thinks I’m orphan trash and that all our disorders will make us weaker. Although, I’m pretty sure Ryan Ross has PTSD to some extent.” 

“His dad–“ 

“Yeah, I know. That’s where my theory comes from.” I bite my lip and stare at the ground. “Kinda nervous for Ryan. His dad’s mean to him, Brendon’s mean to him... I hope he has a safe place.” I remember the look on his face when Brendon lashed out on him. His mocha eyes were wide, his skin was ivory pale, and I could see him shaking. There seemed to be a glassy aspect to his eyes, like he was on the verge of crying. 

Something tells me Ryan didn’t break Brendon’s heart. Something tells me it’s the other way around.

Except it wasn’t Ryan’s heart that was broken. 

It was his dignity and voice. His ability to say what he wants— or even _know_ what he wants. All that was gone now. “We should help him,” I mumble, leaning my elbows on my knees. Gerard stares at me as if I’m from another planet. 

“He’s in Brendon’s crowd, man. At least the Ryan _I’m_ thinking of is.” 

I shake my head and sigh, “That’s why we have to get him out of there. He’s such a good kid, and there’s so much he can do if he just has a safe place to go to.” I move closer to Gerard and put my head on his shoulder. “He worries me more than anything. He worries me more than Joe, actually, which is hard to compete with.” 

Gerard nods solemnly. “You, Frank, and Joe worry me the most.” 

“Why Frank?” 

“It’s... it’s hard to explain. He thinks he has more time left than he does. The kid has this problem where his legs just.... stop. He’ll collapse at any time, just because he can’t feel his legs anymore. It started with just one leg about a year ago, but now it’s both. It happens at any time, and he refuses to get crutches or tell his parents about it. He rides on Gabe’s shoulders when he can’t move. After the fight— no, _during_ the fight —it happened. He says he’s used to it and he’s not scared, but it’s gonna kill him one day. I can sense it.” He sniffles and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. 

I wrap my arms around him as he begins to sob uncontrollably. “It’s gonna be okay,” I murmur, “Just enjoy the moments you have with him, and remember them as much as you can. If he goes–“ 

“When! It’s a _when he goes_ , Patrick. Frank’s not gonna... he won’t.. Not past twenty. He’s sixteen, and he’s just dropping at any moment, and it scares me, and— oh my god, I’m hyperventilating.” Gerard’s breathing had quickened, and he was shaking as well. He clings to my shirt, begging for comfort, even though he’ll just disagree with anything I say. It’s a way of comfort that I’ve never seen before, but it’s an interesting one. 

“He’s still alive now, and we don’t know if he’s gonna die yet. The best we can do is see a doctor about it, or put him on crutches, or let him know that what he’s going through is an issue.” 

“He doesn’t think anything’s an issue besides the radio staticking or fireworks going off without warning,” Gerard shakes his head in dismay. “I wanna tell Mr. and Mrs. Iero about it, but they don’t like me that much. They say I’m too dumb for Frank, since I have trouble reading at the age of eighteen.” 

I sit still for a second. There has to Ben something we can do. Between helping Ryan, helping Joe, helping Frank, and defeating Brendon, there’s not much time for any of us to _plan_ how we’re gonna do those things. Although, there _are_ eight of us. Eight of us and four problems.

But we can’t just split up into groups and assign certain people to certain problems; it’s not a “group project” like the ones in school. We all need to do this as one team. “Gerard,” I say, “What would you do if I said that I had an idea about how to fix this?” 

Gerard laughed sardonically, “I’d drop you off at the psych ward.” He paused after that, then turned to look at me. “What’s your idea?” 

***********************

After I tell Gerard my plan, he and I finish our talk by discussing music. He plays guitar and sings, which is interesting, but I can still remember the look on his face when I told him how many instruments I knew how to play. 

“Singing (I guess), guitar, bass, piano, drums, trombone, sax, trumpet, mandolin, synth, and this other thing... it’s like a guitar, but it’s also a ukulele. It’s really cool; I’m gonna have to show it to you some time.” I list the instruments on my fingers as I go. Gerard just stares in amazement. 

“Lemme guess,” he rolls his eyes jokingly at me, “You write poetry, too.” 

I shake my head, laughing. “My poetry sucks, man. I just write melodies and crap. I bet you’d be a great writer.” 

Gerard exhales, “I _would_ be. I make up a lot of storylines and I draw a lot, but it takes me a bit to write words without the letters mixing up and blending together in my brain. I tell you, I’m just plain stupid or something.” 

I press a friendly kiss to his forehead and whisper, “You’re not stupid, honey. Just relax and enjoy what you have, maybe find ways to strengthen your weaknesses. I’ll help you with anything you need.” 

Gerard gives me a wan smile. “You’re calling me Honey? Wow... Joe really does affect you.” He and I look up at the same time just to see the sun begin to sink down below the horizon. “Speaking of which,” he says, “You and I should go back home.” 

I don’t dare rip my eyes from the glorious sunset. I even lift my hat a little, just to get a better view. Although, I do agree with Gerard. “We really should...” I mumble. I’m so freaking distracted. Gee helps me out of it by taking off my hat and throwing it in the direction we need to go. 

“Not on my watch!” He declares, “C’mon, let’s go.” He jumps off the bench and runs out of the dugout, snatching my cap from the pitcher’s mound. He waves it at me from his distance, a playful energy in his eyes. Locks of maroon hair fly in front of his eyes from the breeze. Maybe I should ask him about his workout routine, because he’s clearly doing something that I’m not. 

Or maybe I should follow my own advice learn to be okay with who I am.


	5. Joe (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of the story behind Joe’s separation anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Patrick isn’t in this chapter at all. It’s in third person, with Joe as the main character.
> 
> Throughout the work, I’m going to sprinkle in backstories to some of the important characters. This includes Pete, Joe, Frank, Gerard, and maybe some others. This is the first installment of Joe’s backstory.

_Age seven, Joe sits in the living room, playing with the family cat. He dangles a string in front of Lola’s face, snapping it upwards when she pounces at it. The cat gets mad at him and claws at his arm. The strike was successful on Lola’s part, for there is a deep gash on Joe’s arm. He recoils, his arm stinging from the fresh wound. Blood spills out. Joe stares at the wound, wondering if it would make him a baby if he asked his mom for help. Because, well, it hurt a lot, but everything hurts when you’re little._

_He decides to get help. He stands up and calls out, “Ma? Ma, where are you?” He stumbles into the kitchen. His mother’s hard at work, making that night’s dinner._

_“What’s wrong?” she asks, “I’m kinda busy right now, but I can help later.”_

_Joe looks at his arm. “Um... Lola scratched my arm, and it’s bleeding really bad.”_

_His mother doesn’t even look at the injury. It’s like she just_ assumes _that it’s not a deep cut. ”Ask your father for help, dear. I know he’s not busy,” Mrs. Trohman sighs and stops for a second. “He’s never busy,” she mutters._

_Joe doesn’t hear the last part. He wanders off to find his dad, who is in the office. He’s not doing office work, like signing papers or talking on the phone with a client. He was a vacuum salesman, he said, because his job sucked. Joe didn’t actually know what his dad’s job was. “Dad?”_

_Mr. Trohman turned around to face him. “Hey there, sport! What’s going on?”_

_Joe held up his arm. “I’m bleeding out,” he joked._

_His father’s eyes went wide. “Son, son, son... don’t touch that. That’s, uh, that’s pretty deep. Here, let’s see if we have any bandages for that.” He stood up and briskly made his way over to the bathroom. Joe couldn’t reach the medicine cabinet, much less could he even see what was in it._

_His father sorted through baskets and moved pill bottles around, trying to find bandages. He sighed and looked down at his son. “Sorry, Joey, but we don’t have any bandages or gauze or anything. C-Can I see it? The cut?”_

_Joe stepped closer so his father could examine the wound. “Damn cat,” said Joe._

_His father chuckled, then stopped himself. “Where’d you learn that word?” He asked._

_Joe cocked his head. “I learned the word_ cat _on the first day of kindergarten.”_

_“No... the first one. Damn is a bad word.”_

_“Then why are you saying it?”_

_“Because I’m a grownup, and only grownups can say bad words.”_

_”Oh. Am I in trouble?” Joe winced, and not only because his father was poking at his sore arm. He didn’t know it was a bad word. He only knew about the B word, the F word, and both S words. Although, his brother said that sex wasn’t a bad word if you’re talking about boys and girls. Was_ penis _a bad word? Joe remembered getting in trouble when he said_ penis _in front of a girl. Apparently the girl didn’t know what a penis was._

_But then what did girls have?_

_It probably didn’t matter._

_“Joe? Joey?” His father snapped his fingers in front of Joe’s eyes to get attention. “I’m gonna go to... go to the store and get some bandages for your cut. While I’m gone, stay away from Lola and clean up that tongue of yours; no son of mine is going to swear under my roof.”_

_“Okay! I love you, daddy!!” Joe hugged his father by the waist, his head only reaching up to Mr. Trohman’s chest._

_Mr. Trohman hugged him back lightly, almost as if he didn’t mean it. “Okay, okay. I’ll... I’ll see you later.”_

_And with that, he walked out of the door and out of Joe’s life._

_******_

_It was 8:00. Joe was tired, his gash stung, and his dad hadn’t gotten back from the store. “M-Mom?” He whimpered as he curled up next to her on the couch, “Do you think Dad got stuck in traffic?”_

_Mrs. Trohman sighed, not looking away from her knitting. “He probably got distracted and went to a different store.”_

_Joe went quiet. He thought long and hard about what might have happened. He was only seven years old, so not much came to mind. Then he remembered last week._

_Last week, he was climbing a tree with his friend, Andy. Andy fell off the tallest branch and got a gash similar to Joe’s. They had to take him to urgent care. The doctor, apparently thought that Mr. Trohman was Andy’s father, so he was given a surplus of bandages and Neosporin-type stuff. Mr. Trohman gave half of the the bandages to Andy’s parents, but kept the other half._

_It was still a lot. Why did his dad have to go to the store for something he had? And this late, too. “Mama,”_

_“What?”_

_“I think Daddy ran away. Like... forever and crap,” Joe whimpered and chewed his fingernails._

_His mother shook her head, “Joseph,_ why _do you jump to such dark conclusions? Also, don’t say crap yet. You can say it when you’re ten.” She ran her fingers through Joe’s dark curls. Joe bit his lip and stared at his gash._ I hope it isn’t infected _, he thought to himself._

_“We already have bandages,” he answered, “We have them from Andy’s incident, remember? And dad went to the store to buy something we already have. And... I heard you say it the other day.”_

_“You heard me say what?”_

_“Well... we can’t afford things we already have. Dad’s running away, Ma.”_

_Mrs. Trohman scowled. “That dirty little— wait, did he say anything to you before he left? Like, did he tell you to tell me anything?”_

_Joe shook his head, “No. He did say ‘see you later’ to me, though.” Joe stared at the door, begging for his father to walk inside, even if he was drunk or mad or both. He just needed to know his father was going to come back. It had_ _been ten hours, and the pharmacy was just on the corner. But... he said ‘see you later,’ which is the most relaxed form of promise._

_“Well, Joey, it looks like you have your answer. He wanted to see you later, so he’s gonna come back. He’s probably out with his friends or something. Anyway, it’s long past your bedtime. Go to bed, Joe. I love you.”_

_Joe stood up and hugged his mom goodnight. “G’night. I love you, too.”_

_That night, Joe couldn’t fall asleep. His arm kept him awake for sure, but there was something else. He thought about how... what was the word? Like, really really far away, but not actually far away. Distant! Joe’s father had been really distant the past few months. He never said ‘I love you’ anymore, he barely left his office, and he went out with his friends too much. And got drunk too much. And he swore at Joe’s mom too much when he got drunk._

_Maybe it was about time he removed himself from the family for real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry


	6. Morning Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Joe wake up with a romantic fire in their eyes. Not E-rated or even M-rated. 
> 
> Don’t go away because there’s a second, more important, part to this chapter. You know, the part that was supposed to happen in this chapter but I got distracted. Also, just don’t go away in general. You guys are my serotonin suppliers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys are staying safe and healthy during this extremely confusing time. Take walks daily, wash your hands when coming inside from somewhere, and stay six feet away from people who you don’t live with. Don’t kiss anyone who doesn’t live with you (sorry, CC and AJD, I miss you both. Sincerely, ASF). 
> 
> Just take advantage of this time. Learn to do something you’ve always wanted to do. For example, I learned how to fix a broken ukulele, and now I’m teaching for the first time. I also have a Starz subscription, so I’ve learned how to watch seven romantic comedies in one day.

“P-Patrick?” Joe nudges my cheek with his nose, kissing me lightly. “You have to... you have to wake up. You’re not dead. You’re not dead. _You’re not dead, dammit_.” It took me a second to remember that he was talking to himself; reminding himself that I wasn’t dead yet. His voice shook, the way it did every morning he tried to wake me up. “Patrick, please. Talk to me or something. Mumble, even.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and dug his head on my shoulder. 

“You have got to stop treating every morning like a funeral,” I warned, “Although I love how close it makes you get, I’m just not a light sleeper. I actually fall asleep at night, instead of closing my eyes and hoping for the best,” I give him a soft kiss on the mouth, but he pulls me into a deeper one. His tongue brushes against my lower lip, then draws back. I sigh gratefully and tug at his curly hair, pulling him on top of me without meaning to. Joe hovers over me with the most stunned expression. He wants to. I can _physically_ feel that he wants to, if you catch my drift. 

“Patrick,” he whispers, “My mom is probably standing right outside the door, waiting for us to say something to each other so she can write it in her journal.” 

“For real?” 

“Most likely. But there’s only two possibilities for if she hears noises: she’s either going to come through the door with a video camera or she’ll leave us alone after leaving a recording machine under my door.” He laughs and goes back down for another tongue tangling kiss, leaving me breathless. To catch my breath, I left small individual kisses on his neck. 

“You’re so beautiful,” I whimper, clawing at his pajama shirt. “Off... take it off.” 

After doing what I suggested, Joe groaned softly and pressed our chests closer together. “We’re fifteen,” he pointed out, “this is illegal.” 

“Only if you’re an adult.” 

“What if _you’re_ the adult? Are we safe then?“

”You’re an ass, Joe. Let’s make sure not to anything dangerous for now. People... people our age make out with each other without going all the way.” I nuzzle his neck before kissing it obsessively, making sure to leave marks on places that his mom couldn’t see. His shoulder, his clavicle, his wrists. Just anywhere I could cover with a sweater. Joe bit his lip to suppress a noise. How worried is he that his mom’s gonna break into the room? 

“We should spend the day together,” Joe nips at my ear playfully. 

I smile against his skin. “We do that everyday except for last Tuesday when I was hanging out with Gerard.” I pull back from him and rest my fingertips on his face. 

“You have extremely cold hands,” he shivers, “I should give you my gloves.” Joe wraps his fingers around my bare wrists. His hands were warm and soft, like the way I imagined. I went back to his neck, taking time to reflect on the situation. How would we end this? How will we feel afterwards? Will Joe want to forget it happened and move on, or will he stay next to me all day and hint to people about it? I mean, the second one has been happening since we started dating, but he might try to intensify it (if that’s even possible). 

“Um, Patrick? You’ve been kissing the same spot on my neck for a while,” Joe locks eyes with me, clearly panicking. I move my head, cursing under my breath. I had kissed way too high up on his neck. It was practically on his jaw, but just a few inches below his ear. Basically in the spot that anyone can see, no matter what he wore.

“I... I...” my voice shakes as I touch the spot on his neck. 

“What, Patrick?” Joe leaps off of me and rushes to the bathroom mirror. I follow him. His mom catches us, then stops me. 

“Patrick,” she says, “Why is Joe shirtless? I’m not going to be mad unless the answer is legally troubling.” She has this fierce glare in her eyes and a firm grasp on my shoulders. For the first time in _ever_ , I am terrified of Joe’s mother. 

I panic, shaking as I involuntary confess, “We made out on his bed! It was fully consensual. A-A-And I don’t want to sound like a little kid or anything, but he pretty much started it. I only kissed him for morning affection, but it turned into a little more than I bargained for.” My speech collapsed near the end, and I wasn’t unsure whether I was pale or red in the face. I’m easily embarrassed, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I was blushing. “M-Mrs. Trohman, I’m sorry.” 

She cocks her head at me, confused. “Why are you sorry?” 

I shake my head. “I know you love him, and you probably have small suspicions of me. I’m not good enough for him, I know. And this last piece of information scares me, but you should know before you find out. I, um, I kissed his neck, and now he has a hickey. I’m so sorry, ma’am. If you hate me or want to kick me out—“

Before I finish my sentence, Mrs. Trohman yanks me into a hug. “You’re giving him a life,” she whispers, “Thank you so much. Did it feel good, or was it awkward?” 

I look over to the bathroom, where Joe is staring at me. _What’s going on_? He mouths. I smile and mouth back, _She’s happy that we did it_. Joe widens his eyes, smiling at me. Sometimes I’m glad that I was born knowing how to lip read. 

“Mrs. Trohman—“ 

“Call me Mom.” 

I stop dead in my tracks. There’s no way I can ever call anyone else my mom. I know who my mom is. She might be dead, but she’s still my mom. “Ma’am, I can’t do that. It’s not that I’m ungrateful for all that you’ve done– I owe you my life –but I’m still shaken up from... from my... god, what am I saying?” I force a laugh. Joe sees me and walks over. 

“Mom? I can take it from here. Please. Thank you, though. And yes, the rumors are true. He and I made out fiercely on my bed this morning, and I felt really attracted to him. The light from outside, his eyes, his hair was messy, the way he was kissing me all over, and there was something about how he pulled me on top of him. I wanted to do everything with him, but he said we should wait. He’s such a great boyfriend, mom.” 

I blush and hide my eyes. “Don’t tell people that!” 

Joe takes my chin in his fingers and kisses me softly. “I want everyone to know,” he beamed. 

God, he makes me smile like no one else. Mrs. Troh— I mean, _Mom_ watches us from the side in awe. “You guys look like a real couple,” she sighed. I blinked away the thought of how she implied we weren’t a real couple. After that, I blinked away the suspicion that she said that because we’re both boys. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s no cliffhanger, sorry. I just got so sucked into this chapter’s storyline that I didn’t get to what I wanted, but this is good enough for you. 
> 
> Is it good enough for you? If it isn’t, please please please tell me! The last thing I want is for people to lose interest in my writing just because I wasn’t meant for them. If the storyline sucks, tell me. If I’m out of character, tell me. If you hate it, tell me. But don’t tell me you hate it without giving me some constructive criticism. My friends have this nickname for me... Mr. Constructive Criticism. 
> 
> I’m a mess right now, honestly. I miss my friends.


	7. The Chapter that Should’ve Been Last Chapter But Wasn’t Because I’m a Twat (by Fall Out Boy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self explanatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take so much more initiative when I’m off my meds. It’s ironic because I need to take a heavy amphetamine every morning. ToDaY i fOrGoT mY mEdS anD mY hOuSe hAs NeVeR bEeN cLeAnEr! I’m also less depressy. More progressy less depressy.

I decide to spend the day with Joe, and we go on our first real date. It has nothing to do with coping mechanisms or junkyards, which Joe is pleased to hear. Not that he isn’t _elated_ when I leave him in a room by himself and promise I’ll be back in thirty minutes. I often come back to see him curled up on the floor with his knees tucked into his chest. Sometimes he cries and then I have to lay on the floor with him for a while. Once he feel safe, I’m thinking of moving on from thirty to forty five, then hopefully we’ll get to an hour before Hanukkah starts. It’s June 3rd, so there’s time. 

Holding Joe’s hand as we walk downtown, I notice that people are giving us strange looks. Joe looks worried, and he keeps muttering stuff like, “I like who I like; no one can take that away. Even if they can see us. They _should_ see us. Dammit, why am I having a hard time with this?” His hand shook inside of mine. 

I lean over and whisper to him, “We can stop holding hands if it’s too much.” 

Joe shakes his head. “I can’t stop holding your hand, Patrick. I need you.” He squeezes my hand and swallows hard. “If people could just get over it...” 

“I know. I know, Joey. I hate it too.” I hold his arm with my other hand and nuzzle his shoulder. “But you’re so handsome that I get blinded to the hate. And if it makes you comfortable, you can call me your girlfriend.” 

Joe laughed halfheartedly. “That kind of defeats the purpose of coming out, doesn’t it?” He lifts my hand and kisses our intertwined fingers. “Besides, I love the shiver/tingle I get from saying ‘I have a boyfriend!’ Believe it or not, I often stand in front of the mirror and just see what I look like when I say it.” 

“No way. For real?” 

“Yep. And I’ll tell you right away, I look like a fool with the type of smile I get.” Joe stops in front of a record store, facing me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that he was proposing marriage to me. “I really like you, Patrick,” he admits. He’s blushing lightly, and his smile is sweet and beautiful. 

I put my arms over his shoulders. “I really _really_ like you. How’s that? That’s one more ‘really’ than you!” 

“Well, then I really really _really_ like you!” 

“Really really really really!” 

“I love you, Patrick!” Joe confessed, his eyes lighting up like stars. My heart stops. Did Joe just say he _loves_ me? That can’t be right. I’ve only known him for two months or so and we only made out for the first time this morning. There’s no way he could’ve developed a love for me. But maybe Joe was different. Maybe Joe loved me since the moment he saw me, or there was something that happened when he smashed our lips together during the fight. Either way, I wasn’t sure if I love him back yet. 

I close my eyes, my voice shaking as I say, “I’m sorry, baby, but I... I wanna take this slow and fun. I’m not ready to say ‘I love you’ yet, so can I just go ahead and say... I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY like you! Ha!” 

Joe laughs, “You got me there, Trickster! I was so scared for a second that you were gonna break up with me.” 

I stand on my toes and lean our foreheads together. Our noses touch, and we open our eyes to be surrounded by nothing but each other. His arm goes around my waist. The other hand placed itself on the side of my thigh. How come he does this in public? I mean, it’s great that he’s open about it, but does he have to be _this_ open about it? “Joe,” I whisper, “Do we have to do this in public?” 

He smiles and says, “Yes, we do. It’s part of being in a relationship.” 

“But wh—“ 

I don’t get to finish my sentence. Joe cuts me off with a kiss. It’s like he’s obsessed with kissing me. There are like, so many other ways to let someone know that you like them. You don’t have to kiss them every time you lock eyes. Whatever, I love the feeling of his tongue brushed against mine. I close my eyes and kiss him back, but only for a second. I pull away, suddenly aware of the crowd we’ve drawn. There are people everywhere. 

My. Worst. Nightmare. I hate it when people pay attention to me. I guess it’s what I get for kissing a boy, in this day and age. I tug at Joe’s hand and whisper, “They’re looking at us,” 

Joe nods. “I know. Let them stare. They find this entertaining, apparently, yet they refuse to show it on television.” He makes eye contact with me, and I start laughing. Now he’s laughing too. Everyone’s expression changes from intrigue to confusion, tinted by concern. Neither of us know why we’re laughing, either. Just... everything’s so damn funny right now. We kissed one time, and the whole town gathered to watch us. What’ll the boys say when we tell them that? Also, me and Joe are the youngest and most timid couple in our friend group, so it’ll be a shock when they hear that we freaking made out in front of a record store. Speaking of which, we should visit the record store. 

Joe and I stumble out of the crowd, still laughing until water leaked from our eyes. I push up my glasses as I collapse onto the grass. “Why is everything so funny?” I cackle. 

Joe lays down on his back next to me. “It’s like I’m high or something!” 

I immediately stop laughing. Drugs are dangerous. “Joe, promise me that you’ve never been high before,” I say. Joe looks over to me, confused. He reaches for my hand and strokes it with his thumb. 

“Only at the hospital when I dislocated my knee.” 

“Good.. good,” I mumble, staring up at the clouds. I never understood why people stare at clouds. When I try to do it, I end up burning my retinas in the sun. That’s why I’ve started wearing baseball caps; the shade. “So, um, we kissed in front of a record store,” I say, “Do you think we could go inside of it? I heard about a new Prince album and I was just wondering how much it would cost.” 

Joe smirks, “I also fantasize about having money. You gonna get a job? If we just stand out in the street and make out, people are sure to pay us at some point. Like, you know those saxophone players who put out their hat to put money in? We could do it with your hat.” 

“Maybe I’ll get a job. I also haven’t gotten any of my nonessential items from my parents’ house, which includes my wallet. Damn, why didn’t I think my wallet was essential? You guys could kick me out at any moment or ask me for rent, and I wouldn’t have anything to give!” I roll onto my side and pick at the grass. “You know what I’m saying?” 

Joe frowns at me, his lisp thicker than ever. “Patrick, you’re really struggling to understand why my mom doesn’t want you to work and pay for a place to sleep at night. You’re a kid, and you shouldn’t have to be paying someone to be a mother to you.” 

“But I’m costing you guys extra money! Your mom has to work later because she has another kid to take care of. I don’t want to be a jerk about it and not pay her. Plus, she was a single mom in the first place. It’s worse now.” I run my fingers through my hair nervously. “I just want to help you and Mrs. Trohman. I mean– you and mom. Mrs. Mom. Whatever. She doesn’t see what she’s doing by giving me a home. I feel so loved and paranoid at the same time. I should get a job.” 

Joe sighs and hugs me, whispering, “I’m gonna help you, even if it causes the death of me.” 

“With the way you’re hugging so tight, this’ll be the death of me,” I nuzzle his ear, licking it playfully. He squirms. 

When we’re done hugging (like the weird couple we are), Joe helps me stand up and we both check out the record store. The person at the counter recognizes Joe. “Hiya, Joey!” she exclaims, “Who’s this?” 

I look up and wave as Joe proudly introduces me. “This is Patrick! He’s my boyfriend.” 

The lady’s eyes light up. “Ohmygod you’re so cute together! I bet he’s a Bob Dylan fan. Just by looking at him, I can tell he likes Bob Dylan. Am I right?” 

I blush and try to make humor. “What gave it away? Was it my Bob Dylan shirt? The shirt is Joe’s, actually, but he’s letting me wear it until I can go back and get my things from where I used to live. He’s such an amazing boyfriend, you know? He wakes me up every morning just to make sure I’m not dead. Don’t you wish everyone was like that?” 

She laughs, her frizzy hair falling in front of her face. She has a really bubbly laugh. Like... it just made me feel more comfortable. I catch a glimpse at her name tag. Her name is Calvin. I have never heard Calvin as being a particularly feminine name, but it works. “So, um, were your parents expecting a boy or something?” I ask. 

Calvin nods. “They were. I like my name, though. People usually don’t expect a goofy black girl with overalls when they hear the name ‘Calvin West.’ They normally expect some nerdy white boy with a cardigan.” She smiles widely and leans on the counter. “By that description, Patrick, your name should also be Calvin.” She winks at me, and I blush awkwardly. 

Joe nods, looking me up and down. “He really acts like a Patrick, though. Shy, smart, musical, serious, romantic, and kind. Not to mention that he just looks like a Patrick. Really cute and stuff.” 

I sigh and shake my head. “Joe’s been telling everyone who’ll listen that I’m amazing. He’s a compulsive liar.” 

“Am not! I just think you’re awesome.” 

“Then if you’re not a liar, you’re delusional. Pick a side, dear.” I squeeze his hand jokingly. Joe stares up at the ceiling as if he’s thinking. 

“I think I’ll go with... delusional. Yep. That sounds about the best option.” My boyfriend kisses my forehead. It’s becoming his way of saying, _haha I’m taller than you, look at how I have to bend down in order to reach your forehead._

I growl at him, “Don’t _make_ me go get my stepstool!” 

Calvin snorts at us. “All right, you two. Either buy something or get out.” She’s clearly joking, but she has such an authoritative voice that it scares me. I clutch Joe’s hand for comfort as I lead him out into the vast aisles of the record store. We can’t afford anything, but it’s always nice to fantasize. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only after effect of not taking my meds is that I’m PANICKY. I wanna see people. I wanna talk to people. This is the part where AD usually comforts me. AD, what was that coping mechanism you used to do with me? It really works but I can’t remember what it is. Do you still play the cello or was that just a dream? Are you alright?


	8. I Just Realized I Haven’t Written About “The Boys” For Three Chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick learns something about Joe that he didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m at SUCH a writer’s block. I really wanna sit around and watch The Golden Girls, since my brothers and I just got hooked on it, but the universe sucks and I have the obsessive need to write constantly. Whether on paper or on ao3, I have to write for my sanity. That should be my personal theme song. 
> 
> 🎶whether on paper or ao3, I have to write for my sanity🎶

**Time skip! Patrick has been hanging out with Pete’s crowd for two months now, and Joe has been able to withstand 25 minutes by himself before he freaks out about Patrick. Frankie has a crutch now, and it’s helping him stay upright. Patrick still hates himself, but Joe’s been building his self esteem one descriptive compliment at a time.**

“Hey... where have you two been?” Pete rolled around in the dirt of the junkyard, thirty seconds deep into a wrestling match with Gerard. Frank and Ray cheered for Gerard, while Gabe and Mikey cheered for Pete. In the split second that Pete looks up at me and Joe, Gerard flips them over and pins him to the ground. 

“Face defeat!” the older boy shouts, “Admit that I’m your master!” 

Pete laughs, “Not til I’m dead!” 

“Have it your way!” Gerard cackles as he begins tickling Pete furiously, making the bassist cry out for help between fits of screaming laughter. 

“MIKEY! GABE! YOU GUYS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BOYFRIENDS; WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” He screams. Joe and I walk over to stand next to Frank. 

“What’s going on here?” I ask, keeping my voice low. 

Frank doesn’t take his eyes off of the two as he replies, “Pete said he’s the most dominant person in the friend group. Gerard didn’t believe him, so now they’re literally battling for dominance. I have to admit, it’s kinda hot to see my boy wrestling another man like that. I don’t want him to cheat on me, though.” He turns his had to crack a wise smile at me, “If he’s gonna be with another man like that, I should at least be able to watch.” 

I snicker, “You’re terrible.” 

“I’m not terrible. I’m honest. Either way, who’s gonna win?” 

“Pete’s extremely submissive,” Joe offers. I give him a weird look, so he blushes and says, “I was having a hard time fitting in, so he and I did some stuff together. Nothing too serious, and _you_ were my first kiss.” 

“I can’t believe you never told me this! What did you do with him?” 

“Well... we cuddled and talked about our problems, helping each other fix them. He kissed my forehead and stuff, but it was all because I’m a little brother to him. He took his shirt off in front of me once and I was so desperate that I did some stuff I kinda regret. That was three years ago, though.” 

I almost drop dead. “You were twelve?!” 

“They were... they were new urges that I didn’t know what to do with. What did _you_ do?” 

“Nothing! I just let puberty scare the ever-loving fluff out of me. I did _the thing that all teenage boys do_ , but I didn’t ask my best friend who’s five years older than me for a physical relationship.” I shake my head, confused. Just the thought of twelve year old Joe kissing seventeen year old Pete from the neck down scares me. “What was the worst thing you did?” 

Joe sighs and leans down to whisper. “Hand j—“ 

I don’t let him finish his phrase. I have heard enough. “He didn’t let you kiss him, though?” 

“I didn’t want to kiss him. Of course, he tried, but I said I wanted my first kiss to count. It hurt his feelings, but I’m glad I said no,” Joe kisses my forehead and hugged me. “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I just thought you wouldn’t care.” 

I punch his arm playfully. “Of course I care, idiot! I’m kinda mad about this, but we’ll talk later. Thank you for apologizing.” I cross my arms, unable to think anything but _irresponsible irresponsible irresponsible irresponsible_. Joe stays quiet, knowing full well that he’s screwed. It’s not like I’m gonna break up with him over this, but I like the look on his face. He’s got that nervous frown, he’s biting his lip, and he’s tapping his foot without rhythm. 

“So, um, can I ask you a question?” I ask. 

Joe laughs dryly, “You might as well know everything about me.” 

I reach out to hold his hand. “Was it worth it?” 

“Pardon?” 

“You said you wanted your first kiss to count. Did it count? I’m not going to be mad if you say no.” I push up my glasses on my nose, waiting patiently for an answer. Joe looks down at me, smiling weakly. 

“I’d say it counted,” he replies. I nod, pleased with him, and feel my the corner of my mouth twitch upward for a second. I’m still processing the whole _Pete_ scenario, but I guess it’s just something to deal with. Forgive and forget. 

Forgive myself for thinking Joe was innocent; forget that Joe even exists. 

Just kidding. I decide that I’m gonna process it later, but for now I should just watch the wrestling match at bay. Pete has Gerard pinned down, and is counting to five. Technically he should only count to three, but I guess this was junkyard wrestling, where you get two more seconds of grace. 

Two more seconds. Almost twice as much time, only taken down a little from what you had. 

It’s like the dynamic of the junkyard. When the world doesn’t give you a second chance because of something you can’t do as easily as others — like reading, focusing, walking, speaking, or leaving a room alone — none of it matters in this junkyard. You have a chance to be whoever you’ve always wanted to be, but you’re still yourself. The piece taken off is that small disorder that makes things harder. But you have 2/3 of a chance, and only 1/3 of a setback. 

If any of that makes sense? 

“...4...5! Pete wins!” Frank shouts, sticking his left crutch in the air triumphantly. Mikey and Gabe cheer for their boyfriend, helping him and Gerard stand up. I’m snapped out of my thoughts, taking less than a second to adjust to the real world. 

Pete dusts himself off, then walks over to me. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he says, “What’s wrong?” 

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I just need to ask you a question in private.” I look over to Joe. “Can I...?” 

He shrugs. “I’m not stopping you.” He gives me a quick side-hug before releasing me to talk to Pete. I grab Pete’s wrist and lead him over to a rusted VW. He leans on the trunk, arms crossed. 

“What’s up, Patch?” He cocks his head, chewing on a long blade of grass he found.

I stutter, since I don’t know how to say this. “So... um.... Joe said something earlier about you.” 

“What about me?” 

“He said you guys — and I’m not extremely mad, I’m mainly confused — but, uh, he said you guys had a relationship of some kind when he was twelve. Is this um... is this t-true? I mean, I trust Joe, but it’s just hard to know when he’s messing with me, you know?” 

Pete smirks. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. “That was forever ago, man! He was having a tough time with everyone’s different personalities, and he was so confused about his own life in general. I figured that he needed someone to talk to and stuff, but it ended up going in a weird direction. Did he tell you why he didn’t kiss me? I thought it was really cute when he said that. But yeah... he and I did some stuff.” 

I exhale, slightly relieved that I wasn’t being lied to. I suddenly had another question, but I was really embarrassed to ask it. “Pete? Joe said that he touched you at some point. Was he good at it or...?” 

Pete laughs loudly, holding onto the car for stability. “Oh my god, Patrick! Why do you want to know?” 

My face flushes red immediately. “J-Just future stuff,” I mumble. 

Pete whispers in my ear, “He’s really good. I was kind of surprised about it, but he’s good.” His voice sends chills down my spine. It’s a really crisp sound, and (dare I say) seductive. 

I step back, holding my arms as close as possible to my sides. “O-Okay...” I chuckle, “thanks for telling me!” I begin to walk away, but Pete grabbed the hood of my jacket. 

“Not so fast! I’ve barely talked to you this whole time. Lemme have a conversation with you or something.” Pete spun me around, but I lost balance and crashed into his chest. “Woah! You’re clumsy. That’s pretty cute, you know. Not that I’m into you or anything, but I bet Joe likes it.” 

I glance over my shoulder at Joe. He’s just talking with Mikey about something. “He likes everything about me,” I reply, “It’s ridiculous.” 

Pete shrugs and puts his hand on my back. “Maybe he’s trying to be a role model for you,” he offers. 

I turn to face him. “What do you mean by _role model_?” 

“Simple. He’s trying to show you that you have a lot of worth. By loving everything about you and telling you in detail about why he likes each part, it’s possible that he’s secretly pushing you towards loving yourself the way you should.” He picks at his messy black nail polish. “I’m no philosopher, but some things are just in plain sight, you know?” 

Pete ruffles my hair playfully before walking away as if he hadn’t just given me an existential crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these last few chapters haven’t been extremely exciting, but it’s all gonna be worth it later.


	9. Andy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the non-backstory timeline, this is everyone’s ages
> 
> Brendon, Frank, Calvin: 16  
> Ryan: 14  
> Patrick, Joe, Andy: 15  
> Pete, Mikey, Gabe: 19  
> Gerard, Ray, Dallon: 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry it’s been a while. I’m just a little depressed at the moment and I’m trying to write cute little pieces to help pull myself together. AD taught me how to do that. 
> 
> This one time I accidentally swallowed a breath mint instead of my pills (I was in a hurry) and the whole day was one big panic attack. I had trouble talking to anyone besides AD, and he did this thing where he pressed thumb on my wrist to ease my anxiety.

Joe and I ended up not having our talk. I tried to sit down with him to discuss it, but I realized there was nothing to discuss. Because like, it _happened_ , and it’s a weird mental image, but that’s really all it was. I guess there’s a trust aspect to it since it wasn’t something he didn’t tell me (but probably should’ve). I don’t hold grudges well, so I wasn’t very mad at him. 

Joe introduced me to his friend, Andy Hurley, who was pretty quiet compared to most kids our age. I mean, I have a pretty good understanding of quiet people since I’m shy, but this guy took it to the next level. He mainly nodded and shook his head, giving monosyllabic answers. 

“So, uh, what instruments do you play?” I ask him as I’m curled up next to Joe on the couch. 

Andy shrugs and replies, “Drums, I guess.” 

I sit up a little straighter. “I play drums too! Anything else?” 

“Saxophone,” he offers, smiling down at his feet. His auburn hair dangles over his eyes. “I guess I sound okay, but no one’s ever given me credible feedback.” 

So he speaks! Joe wraps himself around me like a koala and puts his chin in my hair. “What’ve you been doing since summer break started?” he asks. 

Andy sees how attached Joe is clinging to me and pretends to not notice. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and clears his throat. “I’m just going around and looking for a job. Maybe not a job _specifically_ , but just something I can do to stay occupied for the next few months. How about you?” 

Joe tightens his grip on me, making me wheeze. “Patrick’s my boyfriend, so I’ve been doing stuff with him. We’re also solving problems in our friend group.” 

“Problems?” 

I look up at Joe, waiting for him to explain it. “Tell him about your therapy,” I whisper. 

Joe kisses my nose gently. “Not now, baby.” 

“It’s one of the problems, though.” 

“Fine.” Joe faces Andy again and sighs, “Patrick’s been trying to fix my separation anxiety. He leaves me in a room for a while and promises he’ll be back. I think I’m able to tolerate half an hour by myself?” 

I nod, “Half an hour. I haven’t walked in on you having a panic attack for a while now.” I nudge his throat with the back of my head. 

Andy smiles and says, “That’s an improvement. How’s Pete and the rest of them?” 

Joe doesn’t hesitate. “Frank has crutches until we can get him a wheelchair. Brendon still beats us up and stuff, but it’s nothing big. We think we could talk to Ryan, since he seems to hate Brendon as much as we do. I’d say we’re doing alright, as long as we stick together.” 

Andy lights up. “Do you think I could help you guys? I don’t have much weighing me down and I’m a good listener. It would also give me some form of social life, which my mom says I should have by now.” 

Joe and I make eye contact. We both nod, but Joe whispers in my ear, “We might have to talk to Pete about it.” I shake my head. 

“He wants to help, and I’d say that’s exactly what we need. Pete’s definitely gonna say yes.” 

Joe shrugs his shoulders, then looks up at Andy. “Sure,” he says, “As long as you don’t expect to get paid.” It’s a joke, and he says it like a joke, but Andy gets slightly defensive. 

“I would never ask for pay. A-All I want to do is help you guys with anything you n— wait, that was probably a joke.” 

I chuckle softly. “It was.” I free myself from Joe’s grasp and walk across the room to shake Andy’s hand. “Welcome to our team!” 

********************

Joe and I take Andy to the junkyard after that, where Ray is sitting all by himself. He’s reading a book, but looks up when he sees us. “Who’s the new guy?” he asks, squinting in the sun. 

I drag Andy by the wrist over to him. “This is Andy,” I say, “He wants to help us with our situation. He’s a close friend of Joe’s from school, and I’m pretty certain we can trust him.” 

Andy nods and takes a seat next to Ray. “Hi,” he says timidly. 

Ray replies, “What’s your story?” 

Andy tenses up. “I’m, uh... I don’t really have one. I just heard that you guys needed help and I need to be more social. At least, my mom thinks I’m antisocial.” 

“Parental issues, then?”

”Not really. I just want to help and make friends. The mom thing is totally irrelevant,” Andy tugs at his hair, clearly in distress.

Joe steps forward and taps Ray on the shoulder. “He just wants to help us. Not everyone has a visible problem in their life.” 

Ray nods and shuts up. I take initiative and offer to round everyone up in the junkyard. That means to go to all their houses and see if they can come here. Pete and Gabe live together and Mikey lives with Gerard. That that always makes it easier. 

Joe comes with me to get everyone. 

*************************

The first house is Frank’s, and he comes with us without asking his parents. “Aren’t they gonna wonder where you are?” I ask. 

Frank gives me a wide grin and says, “They already know where I’m going. That doesn’t mean they approve, but they know where I am.” He adjusts his crutches and leads me to Gerard’s house. Gerard takes a moment to lock up the house before leaving. 

“Mikey’s with Pete and Gabe,” he says, “It’s better to assume they’re busy than knock on the door. I’ve made that mistake so many times and it scares me just as much.” He shivers. Joe and I exchange a look, as do Gerard and Frank. We’ve both heard enough. 

Skipping Pete’s house altogether, we head back to the junkyard. Ray and Andy are deep in conversation about candles and how the usage has dropped in the past ten years (don’t ask), but stop talking the moment we all enter the scene. 

Ray speaks first. “Where are the other three?” 

Frank doesn’t filter his mouth. “They’re all in bed!” he shouts. 

Joe smacks his hand over the shorter boy’s mouth. “We don’t _know_ if they are, but it’s better to be safe than... terribly terribly sorry.” He stares at the ground awkwardly during the last part, and we all murmur in agreement. 

Andy turns to us. “What’s wrong with—“ 

I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s just uncomfortable to think about our _friends_ doing _unspeakable acts_ with our _other friends_.” I put hard emphasis on some words, elbowing my boyfriend in the ribs. “Isn’t that right, _Joseph_?” 

Joe whimpers and puts his hand where my elbow hit. “I thought you said you weren’t mad.” 

“I’m not. I’m just messing with you,” I mutter. 

Without another word, Joe explains Andy’s situation to the rest of the people, and it seems to ease up the confusion a bit. Andy introduces himself individually. 

A small part of me feels like I accomplished something. Not much, but just enough to become proud of myself. I hope the feeling comes back after I get ahold of Ryan Ross. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is going to be a very important character. 
> 
> Someone is going to die in this fic, but I can’t decide whom. I’m torn between two characters, since both of them would largely affect a certain character. There’s a third one I’m considering, but it’s on the side because I don’t know if people would like it.


	10. Sexual Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I have to write a sex scene and die miserably whilst doing so. C’mon. Watch me burn. It’ll be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a hormonal teenage virgin boy, so don’t expect me to be good at this whole “write about sex” thing. At least I wrote from the perspective of a fellow submissive bottom? I’m fully aware that Joe is heavily based on me, but this is from PATRICK’S perspective.

Andy turned out to be really good with wood and carving. He noticed a problem with Frank’s crutches immediately, and fixed it in a week. “His legs fail at the same time, right?” 

I nod, glancing over to Frank, who’s sitting on the top of a metal pile. Joe’s trying to create a sculpture from scraps, but it just looks like something that spent way too long at a quirky import store. “It’s why he has the crutches,” I say. 

Andy tilts his head. “So... how does he walk with the crutches when both his legs fail? There’s no possible weight bearing on either leg, which is what the crutch needs. Don’t you think the best solution would be a wheelchair?” 

My mind goes blank. I feel incredibly stupid, and I almost slap myself in the face for it. “Holy smokes...” I chuckle awkwardly, “Why didn’t we think of that?” 

Andy shrugs. “No one’s perfect. It would be strange if a bunch of troubled teenage boys (and Gerard) had a ton of problems and just solved them on the first try. Plus... my uncle does a lot of woodworking, and he’s taught me a lot. Maybe I can help make a wheelchair of some kind.” He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and adjusts his glasses. 

I smile and whisper, “Between you and me, I think your kindness is suspicious. Are you with the Mafia, and you’re just trying to gain our trust?” 

Andy blushes. “N-No. I just want to help. I’ve known Joe since third grade, and anyone he trusts — or anyone he falls in love with — is probably amazing. You guys are full of life, and I’m happy to know you.” 

_Does everything he say have to be an inspirational quote?_ “Thanks,” I reply, “Are you dating anyone?” 

He bites his lip. I see a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes, and he clutches his arm in his hand. “N-No...” he stutters, “I don’t think anyone sees me that way. I’m weird, you know?” 

I put my hand on his shoulder and try to ignore the way he flinches. “Every single person in a relationship that I know is extremely weird. You’d do just fine.” 

“Really? O-Oh. Well, um, there’s something else you should know.” He braces himself as he says, “I used to have a crush on Joe. I never told him and I eventually got over it, but I used to like him.”

I nod my head slowly, remembering one of the first things Joe said to me. “Joe used to like you, too,” I reply, “He liked you when we met.” 

Andy blushes, but tries to hide it with humor. “I think he has a type,” he whispers, “Lovable nerds with glasses.” 

I laugh and shift my attention to Joe as I hear him calling my name. “Patrick!” he shouts, waving his arms. “It’s almost nine! Mom wanted us home by nine thirty.” 

I quickly say goodbye to Andy and the other guys, then take Joe’s hand and let him lead me home. I know the route by heart, but I was feeling slightly hazy and couldn’t even think clearly. Joe noticed. “What’re you thinking about?” he asks. 

I’m not sure if I actually say it or not, but my response is, “I’m honestly not sure. Something just washed over my brain and I just can’t think.” 

Joe squeezes my hand and bends down to kiss my hair. “What do you think you need when we get home?” 

I take at least ten seconds to process that. “Uh.... what? O-Oh. Um... I don’t know. I think I’m just tired.” I bow my head onto his arm and push up with my nose. 

Joe hums softly. “Do you need me to do anything?” he asks, “Like... physically?” 

I don’t even blush. I’m just saying whatever I’m thinking at this point. “I don’t want sex, but I want to try something new.” 

Joe smirks mischievously. He knows that I’m not even thinking, and he knows what to do with this information. “How much clothes?” 

I feel slightly frustrated, since I don’t know how to explain what I want. “I-I don’t know. I want you to be like... on top of me,” I try to display my thoughts with hand gestures, but I just look drunk. “And I want you to hit against my hips with your hips, but with clothes on. You know what I’m talking about?” 

Joe nods. “I think I do, but you might have to show me.” 

“No, you have to... you have to do it to me.” I whack him in the arm lightly. He tries to stifle a laugh, but fails. I barely have any room for emotions besides frustration because of the fog, but I chuckle softly as he unlocks the door and pulls me inside. Mrs. Trohman’s standing in the kitchen in her pajamas, wiping down the already clean counter. 

“Hey, boys,” she beams. Joe waves, then tells her about how I’m feeling hazy. She asks if we did drugs, he says no, she asks if I’m sick, he says no, she asks if I’m horny, he says yes. Mrs. Trohman stays quiet for a second before nodding questioningly and telling Joe to be safe. 

Joe tugs me into the bedroom and pushes me onto my back against the bed. He struggles with his belt as he takes it off, then kicks off his pants and yanks off his shirt. He’s still wearing his underwear, like I suggested. I take off the same amount of clothing, then sit up patiently. I’m still in a fog, but it’s getting better. Joe joins me on the bed and straddles my hips as if pinning me down. “You’re so hot like this,” he whispers, “Just like that morning.” 

I smile and press our lips together. He laughs against my lips as I run my hands down his thin sides. He’s unsettlingly thin and I’m self-conscious, but we seem to make it work. I take a moment to realize how none of this feels real. I’ve had dreams of this and fantasies, but I never imagined it like this. With my brain in a hazy fog and my boyfriend a slightly neurotic guy trying to do anything to make me happy, when all I want is to know he’s comfortable. He begins thrusting his hips down on mine until he’s humping me like a dog. I whine quietly and bury my face in his neck. “Joe...” I pant, “Please fuck me.”

“I’m doing the closest I can do,” he groans. He strokes my cock lightly through the fabric, making me throw my head back against the pillows and moan. He purrs and continues grinding into me. “Fuck, I think I’m close.” 

I sigh and reach down to hold his hand. The touch isn’t enough. I need him so badly. “Joe,” I whimper desperately, “Ungh~” 

Joe slips his hand out of mine—for a moment I feel like he’s teasing me—and moves his arms under my back. He pulls me closer until our chests were pressed together. “You’re really quiet,” he whispers in my ear, “I want to hear you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, baby. Just... oh my god I’m so close that it hurts.” Joe moans and rocks his hips harder. It starts to hurt me—and I’m sure there will be bruises tomorrow morning—but I’m not going to stop him. “Please let me come,” he begs. 

I nod feverishly. “Please do it. I-I can’t live without you.” 

Joe stops moving and looks me straight in the eyes. “I can’t live without you either,” he pants, his voice strained. He’s clearly holding back a shitload of semen. 

I know just what to do. I run my fingers through his curls a few times and kiss him seductively, lapping at his lower lip with my tongue. I don’t say anything because I know he likes my voice more than anything else about me. I can feel his rock hard length poking me—stabbing me—in the ass. I’m close to coming, too, but I’ll only do it after he does. Unless he wants me to do it first, because then I won’t hesitate. 

“What’re you doing?” he monotones, leaning our foreheads together. “I’m not mad, but I’m really close and literally about to shoot at any moment.” He chuckles and puts his hand on my cheek. We don’t make eye contact. Not yet. But I know we’re both desperate and willing to do anything in the world to be done with this. We’re tired, we’re anxious, and holy shit we’re hormonal. 

I nuzzle against his cheek and give him a deep kiss, with passion and love and everything in between. While I have him distracted, I reach down and wrap my fingers around his real shaft, stroking with my thumb a few times until he comes all over my fingers, shuddering and whispering my name. I swear I hear him crying, but he’s just so blissed out that he can’t even think. My release happens in my own boxers, and it feels overwhelming, but it’s not as important as Joe’s. This is about him, in my mind. Even though we literally did this because I couldn’t focus, but every romantic thing we do now is for him. 

Joe laughs and flops onto his back. He throws his arm over his eyes and pants softly. I curl up next to him, literally minutes away from falling asleep. He’s just smiling and laughing, and I can tell that the notorious afterglow is different with everyone. I just want to pass out. 

Joe looks at me and presses his lips to my forehead. “And to think,” he murmurs, “That wasn’t even the real thing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha so yeah I’m back. I’m done with daily updates, since that proved to be stressful and inefficient. I will be updating whenever I feel like it, but I will always have the next chapter in draft. Oh yeah by the way, AD found his phone and we haven’t been able to stop talking to each other since! My girlfriend broke up with me the other day, but at least AD isn’t dead and/or hating me! He’s still the father figure of our dynamic, but I’ll still have to throw his drugs and his vape in the trash when we can hang out again.


	11. Ryan Ross Rescue (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Joe begin their epic plan to save Ryan, but it takes some signaling skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been a while. This project is actually a hobby, and my main job is the shit I post daily. I try hard on this, though. My statistics are slipping, too, so it’s making me happy that you can’t revoke kudos hehe.

After Joe and I tried that thing in bed, it’s been hard to look at him without blushing. He knows that I’m embarrassed by it, but that just gives him all the more reason to tease me about it. This morning when I was getting dressed, he walked in on me and just hugged me. I had pants on (thank god) but I still felt weird from it. 

“You’re weird,” I whisper, “Why am I dating you?” 

Joe tilts his head down and kisses my collarbone firmly. “Because you have good taste and didn’t have anyone else.” 

I laugh, “Andy’s single.” 

Joe chuckles back and delivers another kiss to my throat. “You don’t want to date him, though. I like you too much for that.” 

“You’re very affectionate,” I murmur in his ear. “I like it, but perhaps we should meet up with the others. We’re doing something for Ryan today.” 

Joe looks at me with confusion. “Ryan Ross? Brendon’s boyfriend?” he asks. I nod my head. “Why?” he follows up. 

I put my shirt on and look him in the eye. “You don’t notice how scared he is with Brendon? It’s like he’s being terrorized. We’re going to convince him to leave Brendon for his own good.” After pulling a permanent marker out of a desk, I write the words, _Come with us_ on one hand and _You're safe, now_ on the other. It'll all make sense later, don't worry. I grab Joe's hand and lead him out the door. We walk to the junkyard together. I explain how Ryan’s already abused at home and how timid he is around Brendon, which could suggest minimal comfort given. “Also,” I say, “If we take away one of the people from Brendon’s side, we can take him down easier.” 

Joe nods slowly and processes the information. “So how do we do this?” he asks. 

I shrug. “I’m a very gentle person, so maybe I’ll do some of the talking. Andy can’t make it today because he’s working on a wheelchair, and Ray’s helping Gerard with reading. Gabe is helping Mikey with his stutter, and Pete has a doctor’s appointment.” 

“What about Frank?” Joe suggests. 

I shake my head. “He’d scare Ryan. We all agreed on that yesterday, remember?” 

“I zoned out yesterday while you guys were talking. Are we seriously tackling everyone’s problems at the same time?” 

“No, we’re just getting started. We’re hoping to see the difficulty level of each task. Helping your anxiety is our biggest task since you have pretty deep trauma.” 

Joe scoffs, “I am offen–“ 

“No, you’re not. You’ve come to terms with it,” I deadpan. Joe nods and drops my hand so he can climb the fence. I don't like it when he jumps the fence like that since I've always been paranoid in the face of injury, but then again I'm in a friend group that gets attacked frequently. I should get used to it. I walk in through the entrance. Ray is there first like always, reading his book like always. "Hey, dude," I greet him casually, "What's up?" 

Ray shrugs and doesn't look up at me. "I heard there was a perv down 8th street, so I think we should all go home in groups tonight. One tall person to every short person, Joe should hide his Star of David necklace, and we'll need backup with Frank. Sound good?" he folds the corner of his book page and sets it back in his satchel. I nod understandingly as Joe tucks his necklace under his shirt. There's a lot of anti-semitism in this neighborhood, it seems. 

We wait _around_ for a bit and discuss our plan one more time as each person arrives. When Frank arrives with Gerard, it's kind of hard to decide what to do. "Where am I in this whole plan?" he asks. We all exchange the same type of glance. There has to be something he can help with. He can't exactly help with the Ryan thing because he's loud and kind of intimidating, but that doesn't mean he can't do something. "I could get a job," he says, "I could help Ray's family if I get a job." 

Ray shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, Frankie. My family is doing just fine. My mom recently got a third job, so we've been getting slightly more money from that. What if you learned how to be a better Dungeon Master for Dungeons and Dragons? We're going to have a tournament this weekend, and maybe you could write a scene or create another character." 

Frank sighs and smiles defeatedly. "Alright, then. I'll do that. As long as I'm being useful. I hope you all have a good day." he hobbles off on his crutches. We all feel bad for not being able to give him something to do, but we'll make it up to him this weekend during the tournament. 

Mikey hands me a slip of paper with an address on it. "Th-Th-Thith ith R-Ryan'th addreth," he lisps. I nod my head gratefully and look at it. 

7829 Jackhammer Road. Huh. "He lives in the same neighborhood as my old house," I marvel, "I wonder why I never saw him." I'm overcome with a certain feeling that I can't exactly place. It's not a disappointment, although I am a little disappointed. It's not shock, either. I just feel different. Maybe I should've looked closer for him; we could've been pretty good friends. Of course, we were close-ish when he and Brendon were dating, but we were acquaintances more than anything. 

Joe catches me staring off into space. "Alright, Patrick," he chuckles awkwardly, "Let's go to the house. See you guys sometime around four pm?" The others nod. Joe grabs my arm and tugs me out of the yard. I show him the way to my former neighborhood, then we find Ryan's place from there. I try not to look at my house when we pass it. Joe understands and tries to show me a squirrel across the street when we're close. When the house isn't in view anymore, it's like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. 

A few minutes later, we see the house. It actually looks pretty good on the outside, definitely not a house that you'd suspect for child abuse. Then again, there's probably a reason why it's that way. Hesitantly, I knock on the door and wait. I try to think, "What's the worst that could happen?" but I'd still prefer not to answer that. We hear footsteps from inside the house, then the doorknob turns. Ryan answers the door.

"What're you doing here?" he asks in a hushed voice. 

I take a breath and remember what I'm supposed to say in order not to attract attention. I give him a fake grin. "Hello! You must be Ryan Ross. Correct?" As he nods questioningly, Joe holds up a paper that says _Pretend you don't know us_. Ryan reads it and relaxes. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm Ryan," he says. 

I continue, "Nice to meet you, Ryan. We come from the local conservative baptist church, and we were wondering if you would like to join a youth group." I hold up the hand that says _come with us_. "Do you wish to learn about Jesus?"

Ryan reads my palm and then nods. "Y-Yes. Where do I sign?" 

Joe hands him a clipboard. It's just a plain sheet of paper that says, _Say_ Monday _if you're in trouble_. "What days work for you each week?" Joe asks, prompting Ryan. 

Ryan stutters for a few seconds. "Um... I'm typically busy on _Monday_. Monday doesn't work for me." he turns around and doesn't see his parents behind him, which gives him relief. I make eye contact with him and nod subtly to calm him down a little. He's in trouble; we need to get him out. "I-Is there somewhere we can go to discuss this in private?" he asks. He pulls his scarf down a little to reveal red marks. His eyes keep darting back to the hallway behind him. "I'm very interested in your program."

Joe clears his throat. "That's good. We know a place near Q and 5th where we often gather. Is it okay with your parents if you come with us?" 

Ryan hesitates, then speaks. "If it's for the church, I'm sure they won't mind. Promise I'll be back before four?" 

I hold up the hand that says _You're safe, now_ so that he can read it. "Scouts honor." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	12. Ryan Ross Rescue (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy I changed my username. Treaple was getting a little old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watch _Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse_ way too much for it to be healthy. Screw caffeine and music; that movie is my one true addiction.

When Ryan walks, he walks hunched over. I know we're teenagers and slouching is part of our "culture," but I've never seen a teenager hunch over, walking with his arms protectively binding his stomach. "Do you have a cramp?" I ask Ryan. 

Ryan shakes his head. "No. This is just... this is how I walk. It stops me from being punched in the stomach." 

"Why would you get punched in the stomach?" 

Ryan titters. "You know how it is. Chicago isn't perfect and neither are the people in it. Things happen." 

I nod understandingly. Joe grips my hand a little tighter. "Is that why you hang out with Brendon?" my boyfriend asks, "Because people never hurt him?" 

"Yeah, mostly," replies Ryan. 

I cock my head to the side. "What do you mean by _mostly_? Is there another reason?" 

Ryan tenses up. "Also because I like him. I like Brendon." 

"You do?" Joe deadpans lamely. I elbow him in the stomach. 

Ryan sighs and walks a little faster. His body language is very reserved. "I don't want to talk about it. Not out here in public. I know there aren't any people around but I still think it would be better if we were somewhere a little more private. Where do you guys normally hang out?" 

"We hang out in junkyards," I say, "Specifically the one down on Q and 5th." I finish leading them there, greeting Mikey and Gabe as soon as we walk in. "Hey guys, we found Ryan." 

Gabe lowers his sunglasses to peer at Ryan. "That soon?" 

"That soon," Joe confirms. He takes Ryan to sit on an old beaten-up couch next to Gerard's favorite car. We all have favorite cars, even though the rust makes them look all the same. Gerard's car just has his name carved into it. "We don't really know what to do next."

I take a folded plan out of my pocket. "You mean that _you_ don't really know what to do next. You zone out a lot." I unfold it and show it to both Joe and Ryan. "So I'm thinking that Ryan will slowly start drifting away from Brendon's group and join us over time. That way, Brendon won't really notice it until Ryan is gone completely. He'll try to attack us for 'taking Ryan away' but by then, we'd have taught Ryan to stand up for himself and put that dickhead in his place. So we'll have to do some confidence training. Also, side mission, get Ryan's weight back to normal. You're very frail, Ryan. Your eyes are sunken, too. Are you sure you're doing okay?" 

Ryan just stares at me. He's still processing all the information I just gave. "Um... okay," he mumbles. "I'm sorry." 

Joe comforts him with an arm around his shoulders. "You didn't do anything wrong, Ryan. We're just telling you that you need to get that weight up because we care about you and want you to stay alive. We love you." 

"Why?" 

"Because you're one of us. You feel like you don't belong and you really just want a group of people who won't treat you like a child or limit you because of an illness or a disorder or a deficit. We're all okay here. Your current friend group--with Brendon and those folks--is bad for you. They don't let you speak your mind or do anything you want to do. You're just following them around like a lost puppy. It's taking a toll on you. It really is. That's why we want you to join us. You also look like a nice guy and I wanna be your friend." 

Ryan blushes when Joe says 'friend.' "You really mean it?" he asks, astonished. "Even if I make mistakes more than I get it right?" 

I smile and readjust my hat. "Mistakes are proof you're human, Ryan. As long as you try again, it'll be alright. I ran off in my first week here. I thought everyone was mad at me because I made a mistake. It turns out they weren't really mad at me. They understood." 

Ryan relaxes. His pale frame sinks into the couch, tilting towards Joe's side. I sit down next to him. We sit in silence and wait for Ryan to talk first. We have to hear his thoughts on this. Joe prompts him. "What are you thinking about?" he asks, nudging Ryan's arm. 

Ryan stops zoning out and says, "I'm just wondering why you guys specifically chose _me_ for this. There are at least three other people who hang out with Brendon. Not just me. There's Dallon, Billie Joe, Spencer. I'd name one more but I can't remember his name. In total, there are six of us. Without me, it's five. Five completely healthy people. How many do you have?" 

I count off the people on my hands. "Gerard, Ray, Gabe, Mikey, Pete, Joe, Frank, Andy, me, and you in the future. Nine of us now, but soon it'll be ten. That's twice as much as Brendon's group. We might not be completely healthy, but we're all good-hearted. I might seem like a really soft guy, but I will punch a bitch the second they lay a hand on Joe. I'm sure you'd do the same." I smile soothingly. 

Ryan seems to get more and more comfortable by the minute. "Thanks, guys," he says, "How do you think they'll act around me? You know... since I'm well-acquainted with your guys' worst enemy." 

Joe speaks up. "They'll be alright with it. Patrick used to be Brendon's best friend, and now he's one of the best people on our squad. Either Pete, Andy, or Ray is the best. They've all got that strength. You're going to be great." 

Ryan chuckles and I see tears forming in his eyes. "I just hope I fit in with you guys, that's all. I was kind of the black sheep with Brendon." 

I put my hand on his cheek and wipe away a tear with my thumb. "With us, there is no fitting in. I promise you'll do just fine, kid." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all in a month or so.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have an updating schedule, but you can expect something once or twice a month. If I get to it, maybe three.


End file.
